In Sickness and in Health
by Awasteofbytes
Summary: Some Skittles fluff. Scott is sick and Stiles takes care of him. Special thanks to my beta reader lunatic922.
1. 1984

He lowered his voice a little as he spoke. "How is he?"

"He has the common flu, Stiles, he's not on his deathbed," Melissa McCall replied.

"But isn't it strange a werewolf gets the flu? Shouldn't they have a perfect immune system?" Stiles continued on a normal tone.

"Apparently not. He's awake now but he has a fever. Try not to wear him out too much, okay?" Melissa asked.

"Sure thing," grinned Stiles.

Even if Scott hadn't heard the conversation at the front door, he would have still recognised Stiles' gait on the stairs. Stiles always skipped the first and the last stairs steps, for example.

The door creaked open and Stiles' head came around the corner first. "Hey, buddy,"

"Hey, Stiles," was Scott's weak reply.

The lights were off and the curtains only allowed a little light in. The room was stuffy and warm. The bin was full of tissues and the blankets were a mess that hid the patient from sight. This was the room of a sick person, no doubt about it.

"So how is our Alpha feeling today?" Stiles asked.

"Miserable," grunted Scott as he lifted himself up from beneath the blankets, "I'm cold and hot the same time, I've a headache, a sore throat and I'm nauseous. Do I need to go on?"

"Sounds like the flu to me," diagnosed Stiles cheerfully, as if that solved the problem.

"How are the others? Are they doing okay?" Scott asked.

"They're fine, don't worry about them. I had to say that they miss you and get well soon. Kira and Liam want to visit you tomorrow if that's okay."

Scott rubbed his eyes. "Yeah sure."

He paused.

"Stiles, will you read my book to me?" Scott asked gingerly.

"Wow, you really are sick, then," exclaimed Stiles.

It was an old routine. When Scott was younger –and not a supernatural creature- he would fall sick often due to his asthma. Bedridden, his only pleasure was to be read to by his mother or, when he came to visit, his best friend. It had a soothing effect on Scott.

"So what are we reading?" Stiles asked, providing himself with the answer by taking Scott's book from the nightstand.

"George Orwell? Why does that sound familiar?"

Scott coughed badly. "We read Animal Farm in class a few years ago," he answered.

"Where do I start?" Stiles inquired, taking out the bookmarker as he opened the book.

"On the right page, from the top."

Stiles started reading. "The girl with the dark hair was coming toward him across the field. With what seemed a single movement, she tore off her clothes and flung them disdainfully aside…Wow, Scott, What are you reading?"

'It's a dream sequence, Stiles, just continue, please?"

And that's what Stiles did.

"…On occasion he had even been entrusted with the rectification of the _Times_ leading articles, which were entirely written in Newspeak. He unrolled the message he had set aside earlier. It ran: Scott, are you asleep?"

Scott's head laid down on his pillows, eyes closed and his bare chest steadily going up and down. Stiles marvelled for a moment at how peaceful and completely content the sleeping looked. Then he put the bookmarker between the pages where he stopped and laid the book back on the nightstand.

"Sleep tight, Scotty, sleep tight."


	2. Two days later

The disgusted look on Scott's face would have been justified if Stiles had held a glass of excrements in his face.

"I don't drink orange juice, you know this."

"It's full of vitamin C and that will help you get better, you know this," Stiles countered, "come on, Scott, what's so bad about a little bit of innocent orange juice?"

Stiles held the glass a little closer to Scott's mouth. Scott turned away his face.

"It tastes awful, for starters," Scott stated.

"Oh, don't be such a were-baby!" Stiles cried out.

"I never liked it and I never will. Why can't I have Kiwis? Kiwis have a lot of vitamin C, too," Scott persisted.

"How are you going to be a big Alpha werewolf one day if you can't deal with a tiny glass of orange juice?" Stiles argued.

Scott sighed. "You are not giving up until I drink it, are you?"

"Maybe you won't taste it as much if you drain it in one go," Stiles helpfully suggested.

"Give here," Scott said as he grudgingly took the glass from Stiles' hand.

The boy put the glass to his lips and emptied the glass in three big gulps.

"Yuk," he concluded.

"You'll thank me later," Stiles said as he sat down on Scott's bed, rather pleased.

"Remember when I used to be sick, mom always bought apple juice?" Scott asked.

"I sure do. You drank gallons of the stuff. I also remember that we played cards a lot. Hey, you wanna play cards?" Stiles said, already reaching for the drawer where he knew Scott kept a deck of cards.

"No, thanks. maybe you can read me _1984_ for a bit," Scott answered.

Stiles froze with his hand on the drawer's handle. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Scott said, laying down on his left side, supporting his head with his left hand, "why not?"

"Because it's boring," Stiles confessed.

"It's not boring," Scott said resolutely.

"Uneventful, then," Stiles said.

"It may get more eventful, you don't know that," Scott reasoned.

"True," Stiles admitted.

With a hardly suppressed sigh he took the book from Scott's nightstand.

"Where do I start?"

"Down the left page, 'The proles are not human beings'," Scott said.

"The who?" Stiles asked surprised.

"The proles, the proletariat, the working class," Scott clarified.

With an understanding nod Stiles opened the book and started reading.

"'The proles are not human beings,' he said carelessly," Stiles read, "'by 2050 – earlier probably – all real knowledge of Oldspeak will have disappeared. The whole literature of the past will have been destroyed. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron – they'll exist only in Newspeak versions, not merely changed into something different, but actually changed into something contradictory of what they used to be.'"

"Wow, a world without the Bard. Where can I sign up?" Stiles teased.

"Hey, I read _Twelfth Night_, Shakespeare's great," Scott said.

"Yes, well, you're the literature nerd."

"You're a nerd, too," Scott said.

"I'm a geek, that's different," Stiles replied.

"Whatever, are you reading or not?"

"Alright, okay, I'll read. Don't get your yellow stockings in a twist."

Scott chuckled.

"I knew you would get it," Stiles said, with a little smile on his face.


End file.
